Chapter 14

                                    

                                          
Even though I should feel cold in the basement I feel nothing but fire. The pain in my forehead has nothing but to wallow in its burning sensation. I place it against the cracked concrete wall. The cold relaxes me but I have to fight to keep my eyes open, taking a good scope of the tiny room. A bookshelf takes up the entirety of the far right wall. Some titles I recognize; The Revolution of Designer Children by Henry Brewers, Genetics and Me: An Autobiography by Henry Brewers, Is Getting a Designer Child Right for You? By David Andrews. I didn't even know that Dad was an author.... Was I not worth telling?
Between the books there are various papers shoved every which way. Some are wrinkled, some crisp. Well-loved or well-hated. Madeline is ripping the papers down, her eyes resembling more of a raccoon's than a human's. When she had before carefully regarded how she appeared to others, now that has all gone out the window. She mutters to herself before finally resting the papers in a heap in the room's center table before collapsing in a ball in the opposite corner of me.
"It's useless," she mutters to no particular person. She buries her head in her knees. "I can't make sense of any of it."
She finally rests as she closes her eyes. I look at Mina, hopefully doing the same. Every few minutes I lean over to check for her breathing. Her eyes are still swollen shut but she is snoring peacefully on the hard concrete. What will we do if she doesn't wake up? There's no one else down here with us. I try to think of where they might have taken Joshua but decide it's not worth the effort. There's no moisture left on my tongue. My brain decides to busy itself by taking stock of my puzzling surroundings. Occasionally it all blends together in a piece of abstract art I don't understand. I count to myself,
"One, two, three, three, four, five, six,"
"Two, three, five, six,"
"One, One, One, two, five?, seven?, three,"
I say it all in my trance-like state, not caring for once who hears me. I wonder when Payne will come down here and call me darling again. I like when he says that. Was he the one who put me down here? I don't know. Just keep counting, just keep counting. My forehead cut feels crackly and warm when I put my fingers to it. When I pull mg fingers back, they are sticky and red. Should I go to sleep? No. I got to protect the others. I didn't do that before.
The silence is both reassuring and infuriating. Nothing to focus on either. Only the single hanging light bulb that stings my eyes when I glance at it. It's the closest thing I have to a sun down here. When would I see the sun again?Even though the breathing in the room is a steady lullaby I don't close my eyes. A jackhammer rams away at my head, butting out any of my ever increasing scattered thoughts.
I can't try walking to calm my shaking hands either, Payne carried the crutches up with him. Not like they would help much. I want to touch the ridges of the book spines and the comforting touch of paper on the shelves but instead I draw invisible pictures on the wall beside me, pretending they're angels.
The absence of scent doesn't change as the hours pass by. Madeline and Maki still sleep in their prospective corners. I wonder if it's morning now? I wouldn't know, there are no windows in our impromptu dungeon. When I tie back my hair it's slick and wet. I pat my pockets out of habit. They had taken our phones away many hours ago when they had first put us down here.
Something scrapes against the cold ground. When I look Mina has pushed herself up by one elbow, hissing with pain. She still wears her school uniform but a recent grass stain has ripped up the back of it and blood has congealed in splotches on the front. 
"Hello? Is anyone there?" she asks the room. She scans the room from side to side even though she could see none of it. "Josh?" Her feeble call for him is both heartbreaking and jarring. I try to focus my eyes on her, but my vision has gone fuzzy at the edges.